


Overly Familiar Events

by sanctum_c



Series: Turk Week 2018 [4]
Category: Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997)
Genre: Gen, Invasion of Privacy, Post-Canon, Soap Opera, Television
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:22:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27198437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanctum_c/pseuds/sanctum_c
Summary: Seeds of the Garden - the soap opera set in and around a school for teenage mercenaries - returns with a new writer in the post-Meteor world.
Relationships: Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife
Series: Turk Week 2018 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1609954
Kudos: 3





	Overly Familiar Events

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt 'Loyalty'

_Seeds of the Garden_ was making a dramatic return to the air. While television came back pretty rapidly after Meteorfall, programming tended to lean heavily on re-runs. These dwindled away as time went on and life became easier, if still a shadow of how things were prior to Sephiroth’s cosmic interventions. Seeds of the Garden had famously lost its main writer in the interim and few people felt able to fill in.

Until now. To a degree the whole thing was a publicity stunt – and one geared to lend the Shinra corporation a new veneer of respectability. They put up the money and oddly the writer, but production remained located in Wutai, with the native language on initial broadcast with subtitles within twenty-four hours and a reasonably accurate dub appearing a week or so later. Barret was a big fan and insisted Avalanche at least watch the first episode.

“Hasn’t Reeve gotten the logo changed?” Barret rumbled when the broadcast began – complete with a special introduction from the company’s new media spokesman. “That one…”

“I know,” Tifa nodded. “He wants to, but people do recognise it. A familiar theme tune began – taken by most present in the Eighth Heaven as the signal to change the channel or do anything else. In Barret’s case, he sat up straighter.

In addition to the loss of the main writer, significant portions of the cast had not survived and thus a great deal of the first episode was spent winding through a hasty recap of a fictional timeline. The mercenaries were – to much surprise – intended to fight sorceresses. One in particular wanted to destroy all of time, possessed the lead’s would be girlfriend. There were some alleged skirmishes, a near end of the world. “Thought this was all fictional,” Cloud murmured.

The narration slowed and followed the lead and his girlfriend as they retired from military life. Retreating to the quiet town of Winhill, the two settled into a rural setting – and a total change of cast. Barret shifted in his seat. “Don’t worry,” he said over his shoulder. “They do this from time to time. Never lasts long and then they get back to the fights and the magic-“

Cloud and Tifa shared a sceptical glance. Vincent was unexpectedly interested in the program. The show had run for- Tifa counted on her fingers. Weird. It would have started during his slumber, so it was not as if it was a relic of his past. She blinked. The series lead had wandered into the village’s inn and encountered the barmaid; a tall woman with long black hair and a extremely low-cut top. The white of her top contrasted with the black skirt and the illusion was hard to shake. What the-

A quick glance showed no one else double-taking. Must be reading into it too much. The woman running the bar had a handful of lines. The action tracked the lead, the barmaid moving around in the background. Some fairly mundane dialogue. This was why she never bothered with these kinds of programs-

A man with blond, spiky hair and a dark purple jumpsuit entered and greeted the barmaid enthusiastically, again stealing focus from the lead. Tifa cleared her throat. “Does anything else think this is a bit too familiar?”

Cloud scrubbed at his hair furiously. “Coincidence,” Barret said, though he was frowning now.

The current scene now focused on the barmaid and the newcomer. A would-be mercenary hanging around until the blacksmith repaired his sword. His talk with the barmaid was full of innuendo. Like Cloud but with a lot more confidence. Another customer called the barmaid away and the mercenary stared after her longingly. Tifa shot a glance at Cloud. This was getting a trifle embarrassing.

The mercenary finished his drink and went to leave the bar. A spill by a minor character caused him to slip off his feet. But thanks to some stunt work or wires, the mercenary successfully flipped onto solid ground – a nearby table in a dramatic fashion that would have been so much more impressive if the article of furniture did not give way. Tifa’s mouth fell open. The situation was near identical to an incident last month. Same slip, same flip through the air, same embarrassment for Cloud when he wound up deposited on the floor.

“Are we being spied on?!” Yuffie hissed.

No cameras in sight, but how small would they need to be? “Or maybe you’re covering your tracks?” Barret asked, turning to the ninja.

“Oh, so just because this was made in Wutai, you think I had something to do with it?” she snapped back. “I wouldn’t work with Shinra ever. No matter who’s in charge.”

Cloud was flushed red by now. “Maybe, maybe one of the customers?”

Tifa nodded, not wanting to consider the implications given the care the barmaid was putting into helping the mercenary – nor how blatantly he was staring at her chest. “Can we get them to stop this?”

“Unlikely,” Barret muttered. “Even if we do nothing, they can make the characters do what they want. If we don’t do anything they can use we can avoid some of it?”

“But who? Who did this?” Tifa demanded. No answer until the end. A stream of Wutainese characters scrolled up the screen as the outro played. Tifa’s stomach lurched. “Hey did that-“

“Reno Sinclair?!” Cloud spluttered.

“Reno?” Yuffie exclaimed. “I didn’t think he had a last name.”

“He doesn’t- I think?” Cloud frowned.

“Reno wrote that?” Tifa paced back and forth. “Wait. He hasn’t been by in half a year. How did he-“ She whirled, but the guilty party was already gone. There was a suspect, Vincent-shaped hole in the air.

Barret followed her gaze and grimaced. “Should have known. Once a Turk, always a Turk.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't actually think that Sinclair is Reno's surname; I have him using it here as a really lazy nome de plume.


End file.
